


After All This Time

by BelowZenith



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Obsession, Reunion, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3607764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelowZenith/pseuds/BelowZenith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morrigan and Loghain performed The Dark Ritual together ten years ago. They both end up at Skyhold and see each for the first time since defeating the Archdemon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Morrigan had not expected to see him again. And yet, here he was. Over ten years ago, she was desperately alone, heavy with his child, and hiding in the spaces between worlds. Even though they were unwelcome, thoughts of him had been her only comfort. Later, after Kieran was born, and they rejoined the world, she would think of him only when the space between her thighs ached. Even then, Morrigan would curse herself for allowing Loghain Mac Tir to invade her life. Avoiding him was no longer a possibility. Like her, he could not stand idly by when all of Thedas was in danger. It was no wonder that the two of them had joined the Inquisition. Morrigan had known that he arrived the night before, but she had not expected him to seek her out so soon. That very morning, he had approached her in Skyhold's garden. The lines on his face had become more prominent, his hair was greyer and considerably shorter, but his piercing blue eyes were just as she remembered. He had asked after Kieran, and to his credit, he did not seem afraid of what the boy was. Their conversation had found its way into an uneasy silence when an agent of the Inquisition approached and summoned Loghain to the War Room. Morrigan had thought he looked almost reluctant to leave her, but was sure that was just her own wishful thinking.

Despite her sensible nature, Morrigan's thoughts were alight with possibility and warding off sleep. She was no longer a young woman and chided herself for behaving like one. Memories of him had caused something inside of her to stir. Loghain had been traveling with the Hero of Ferelden and her companions for almost a week when Morrigan was spurred to boldness. One morning, she shifted into the form of a raven and flew off. When she was certain she had went far enough so as not to be noticed, she circled back to camp and waited. Eventually, Loghain headed down to the stream to bathe. She followed and perched in a nearby tree. She had never seen a man without clothing before and was curious. Loghain removed and his tunic and hung it upon one of the branches below her. He stopped in the middle of unlacing his breeches and looked right in her direction. She was positive he could not tell her apart from another raven, but something about his eyes had made her think otherwise. She became nervous and flew off. When she had returned to camp, Loghain was occupied with mending his armor. She swore there was amusement in his voice when he inquired as to whether or not she had seen anything worth mentioning during her morning sojourn.

These memories and so many more had resurfaced after seeing him. It was just after midnight when Morrigan gave up on sleeping. She rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Kieran who slept soundly next to her and dressed quickly. Morrigan wrapped herself in a warm cloak. When she made it to the door she looked back at her sleeping son as if she had remembered something important. Morrigan went to the side of the bed and placed a quick kiss on Kieran's forehead. The patterns of love became more familiar to her over the years, but it was a slow and arduous process. Physical affection did not come naturally to her, but for Kieran's sake, she tried. More than anything, she wanted her son to know that he was loved. Everyday he looked more and more like his father. Morrigan padded across the floor and was careful to open the door slowly, so it made less noise. 

The cool night air was welcome upon her skin and helped to clear her mind. She breathed in deeply through her nose and began to walk aimlessly around the grounds of Skyhold until her body demanded more. She broke into a swift run. Her legs hummed, grateful for the motion. She laughed as she breezed by one of the guards on duty; his expression was one of comedic surprise. Without thinking, her feet had carried her to the garden. She slowed her pace and appreciated the mingled scents of elfroot, blood lotus, and arbor's blessing. She missed the Kocari Wilds terribly. Absentmindedly, she pinched a leaf off of a nearby elfroot stalk and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger to release its scent.

Morrigan looked up at a sliver of a moon as unbidden thoughts of him overwhelmed her once more. She had never admitted to Loghain (or to anyone for that matter), that he was the first and only man she had slept with. Back then, her heart was set on completing the ritual at all costs, but the closeness required to have sex unnerved her. She had found Loghain pleasing to the eye and enjoyed his presence, but she did so in the detached way most people viewed paintings. 

Though she was wholly inexperienced at the time, Morrigan believed that she fully understood the mechanics of sex and its significance. She had been so young and foolish. She had started by crawling over him; knowing her form was pleasing. He had rolled her over with an urgency she had not anticipated. Her body responded automatically and she lost sense of herself. It was a most troubling and exciting experience. He had conquered her with mouth and hands and breath and she had yielded to him completely. When he finally entered her, tears involuntarily flooded her eyes. Before she could stop herself, she had breathed two words, 'thank you'. He froze and his gaze met hers. He brushed his thumb across her cheek before thrusting into her again and again until they both had climaxed. The second time he took her was not part of the ritual. When they were both spent, he had held her in his arms and intertwined his legs with hers. She had made him promise that he would never follow her. When he agreed, she silently hoped that he would break that promise. He had never kissed her on the mouth and had left her alone too soon. The pang of loss she felt now, while remembering, was almost as strong as the one she had felt then.

Morrigan had sensed him before he could speak. She turned to face him slowly, knowing she was not ready to see him again. There stood Warden Loghain Mac Tir, the man whose title was his sentence. He was wearing simple breeches and a roughspun tunic despite the chill that hung in the air. He looked almost vulnerable as he stood before her. Ages passed before either of them spoke. They broke the silence at the same time.

“I did not expect -,” he said.

“It is most strange -,” she started.

Morrigan let out a small, practiced laugh and walked toward him. Loghain continued to stare at her, motionless. She was just a few feet away from him when he finally spoke.

“ No further," he commanded. "Witch, what spell have you cast upon me?”

“If you think I would deign to waste magic on you when the sky is torn asunder and demons roam Thedas," she paused, "Then, you are sadly mistaken, old man.”

Before Morrigan knew what was happening, Loghain closed the distance between them. He wrapped an arm around the small of her back and pulled her body flush against his. He grinned as he felt her involuntarily bow into him. He used his other hand to undo her hair. Morrigan’s eyes widened and she froze, helpless in his grasp. He looked down upon her as a cat looks at a field mouse trapped between its claws. For a moment, the rest of the world receded. All that existed were his strong hands and those predatory blue eyes. He gripped the hair at the base of her neck and guided her head to one side. He kissed her there fervently, sucking her skin into his mouth. She tasted better than he remembered; elfroot, cloves and salt. He rolled her sensitive skin between his teeth. She clung to him; her body burning at his touch. She knew she could not deny him. A whimper escaped her lips. She breathed in his hair; lye and sword oil. One of his hands went under her clothing. He trailed calloused and thorough fingers along her taut stomach as his other hand tightened the grip on her hair. Loghain emitted a low growl and bit her in the place where her shoulder met her neck. Morrigan gasped and tried desperately to regain control of her senses. If she did not stop him now, she would not be able to. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away. He did not relent at first, but after some insistence he removed his mouth from her neck. He still held her by the waist.

“Not here and not like this,” she said. The resolve in her voice offered her small relief.

“Fine,” he said curtly, “Follow me, Witch.

Loghain did not hold her hand or look back to see if she complied. He crossed the gardens quickly and led her to a room with an external door. It was the very place where she had stored the Eluvian. He opened the door and she followed him inside. The ancient mirror served as the room's only light source. It elongated the shadows of the boxes that were strewn about and illuminated everything with an eerie, greenish light. Spindleweed had grown through the cracks in the floor and cobwebs decorated the corners. The air in the room was dank and palpable. Morrigan’s face contorted in discomfort. She did not like to be reminded of the time she spent in between worlds. The room that contained the door to those long forgotten places was one of the last places she wanted to be with him.

“This is hardly an improvement.”

He shut the door firmly and came up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He did not want to have to stare into those otherworldly eyes; they were intelligent, cruel and incredibly alluring. He put his mouth near her ear, so she could feel his lips move as he spoke.

“Would you prefer that I traipse you through the throne room so everyone knew what we were up to?”

His breath was hot and smelled faintly of whiskey. Morrigan felt her cheeks grow warm at his words. Before she could reply, his teeth were on her ear. Loghain pressed his hips into her backside and made his hardness known. He cupped one of her breasts and slid his other hand into her skirt. He ran his nails and calloused fingertips along her thighs. Morrigan writhed against him and parted her legs slightly. She dared not look at him. She focused straight ahead, staring into the Eluvian. When even that was too much to bear, she closed her eyes.

“Please, Loghain.”

The crack of desperation that he heard in her voice gave him pleasure. Perhaps, he had more sway over her than he had thought. Or perhaps, this was another one of her traps. There was only one way to find out. He tightened his grip on her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder so he could feel her mouth open and close.

Morrigan inhaled sharply when she felt his hand enter her smalls. He teased her for a bit, but it did not take him long to find the spot that would make her weak. He was not gentle. She panted and felt her legs start to tremble. She reach a hand around behind her and grabbed on to his neck for support. He kept one arm firmly around her waist while his other hand was relentless between her legs. Morrigan closed her eyes and felt herself fade away. She became nothing more than sensation.

“Come for me, Witch.”

Every bit of Morrigan’s body complied as Loghain’s voice rumbled through her. It had been a long time since she had felt release like this. She cried out without regard to whether or not they were discovered. Loghain did not stop until he was certain that her climax had subsided. He held her up with strong arms. Morrigan waited until her breathing returned to normal before she turned to face him.

Before she could speak, Loghain brought his hand, still coated in her wetness before her face. He made sure she was watching him as he put each one of his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean. This simple act made her shudder. He grinned; unable to conceal his pleasure at watching her respond as he had intended. She swallowed hard. When she started to speak her voice was raspy.

“I would much prefer it if you called me by name.”

“I am sure you would. But then, you might think that I have forgotten what you are,” his tone was not unkind.

He placed a quick kiss on her forehead and squeezed her shoulders. Afterward, he looked almost embarrassed by the gesture. Loghain could not bring himself to tell her that she had haunted his dreams for over ten years. Sometimes, he would wake up to find that he had soaked his sheets like a fifteen year old lad. Other nights, he would stroke himself while thinking of her; and bite into his pillow, so none of the other Wardens heard his release. He had been positive that his obsession was the result of an enchantment Morrigan had placed upon him. He had evidence to the contrary now. She had been almost pliant in his hands. He still was unclear of her motivations, but he knew one thing for certain. He wanted to remain in control almost as much as he wanted her.

“There is an unoccupied room on the Western ramparts. It overlooks Herald’s Rest. You will meet me there tomorrow at midnight,” he commanded.

Morrigan was absolutely baffled. She could not fathom that he was going to leave without being pleasured. She wanted him to stay, but in the end, her pride silenced her. She straightened her skirt and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face.

“And if I do not wish to come?”

“You will be there.”

Loghain released her without ceremony and left her standing in the room, alone. Morrigan buried her head in her hands and felt the unwelcome tendrils of uncertainty creep into the core of her being. This was not how it was supposed to happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Loghain trudged back toward his quarters. It had started to rain heavily. If he was not so intently focused on barring thoughts of the Witch from his mind, he would have noticed how unbearably cold it had become. His mind was a strange labyrinth and when he diverted his thoughts from her, the horrible music that was ever-present in his mind began to resurface. It was the song dead leaves would sing if they had voices; a song of sweet, cloying decay. It was at once appalling and enticing. The Wardens referred to it as the ‘The Calling’ and it was what had delivered him to the Inquisition’s doorstep in the first place. Loghain shivered at its unwelcome return. Without making a conscious decision, he started running and did not stop until he arrived at the door to his room. Inside, Loghain was thankful for the fire that was already burning. He shook excess rain water from his hair and tried to shake the song from his mind. The Calling persisted at the forefront of his consciousness until his thoughts wandered back to Morrigan. When he was with her, the music had completely ceased. It did not simply fade away; it was really and truly gone. The implications of this made him even more ill at ease. 

Loghain closed his eyes. He could almost smell her hair and feel her writhing against him. He knew she had wanted him to take her. Her body said what her words never would. It was maddening, intoxicating, and something he dared not hope for. Loghain had not felt this way about a woman since Rowan Guerrin and that had not ended happily. The feeling had terrified him even then. At the time, he was too young and bold to understand its true power, but not now. He left Morrigan earlier to prove that he still had command over his own faculties. She did not move to stop him. The terrible song receded to the back of his mind as he allowed his thoughts to drift and finally dwell upon her. The quiet she offered was something he desperately desired, but the implication of what it meant became too heavy for him to consider. Instead, it was easier to despise her. He could not bring himself to hate her though; at least not entirely. If ridding himself of Morrigan were so simple, he would have done it years ago. It was his own weakness that repulsed him the most. No one, not even Alistair Theirin, hated Loghain Mac Tir as much as he hated himself.

Loghain had intended to spend his remaining years enacting penance for Ostagar. He was positive he would never achieve absolution, because he could not fathom being forgiven. In spite of this, he still sought redemption. When he was younger, he was never religious and he would not identify as Andrastian now. Yet, he had lived with death coursing through his veins for over a decade. It had profoundly changed the way he perceived the world. The limits of time became omnipresent. In the cold, dark hours when he was most alone, the taint of the darkspawn enabled despair to triumph over pragmatism. Then, his thoughts were always of Ostagar. Time had warped his memories and made his past motivations unclear. 

Thoughts of Maric troubled him the most. The man was practically a brother to Loghain. If Maric had still lived and had been on the battlefield, Loghain did not know if he would have made the same call. Cailan and his forces were already badly overwhelmed when Loghain saw the signal to charge. He had made the decision in an instant. Better to save the lives of some of the men, than lose the lives of all of them. As Ser Cauthrien carried out his order to sound the retreat, Loghain knew it would mean the death of his King. Once, Loghain had loved Cailan as if he were his own flesh and blood, but that had started to change in the weeks leading up to Ostagar. Sometimes, Loghain worried that Cailan was the worst parts of Maric distilled. It was no secret that Cailan had not been faithful to Anora. Loghain tolerated this as an unpleasant truth even though it repulsed him. An insidious rumor had wormed its way through the royal court. It was said that Maric had plans of divorcing Anora and wedding Celene of Orlais. Orlesian conquest by marriage was even more maddening to Loghain than Orlesian conquest by invasion. 

When Loghain had first heard the Calling, he welcomed it as an end to his own personal hell. It was the second time he had courted death. The first was during the Fifth Blight. Then, he had wanted to kill the archdemon and die a hero, but the Witch had another plan in mind. Loghain balled his fists at his side and paced across the floor. It was infuriating. He had not asked her to save his life when she did. Now, he was a husk of the man he once was and she was here to witness it. The Calling had brought him to the brink of madness several times. His own will always pulled him back until today. Today, it had been Morrigan and that soothed his addled mind. She did not have the right. Rage overtook Loghain. Before he realized what he was doing, he overturned his desk and sent it to the floor with a loud crash.

Loghain stared at the wreckage with his chest heaving and brought his hands to his face. He still smelled of her. Without warning, Loghain became aroused. He cursed his body for not acting contrary to his thoughts. His hardness strained uncomfortably against rain-soaked breeches. He hastily rid himself of his pants and hung them by the fireplace. He looked down at his erection and gripped it firmly between his thumb and forefinger for just an instant before dropping his hand to his side. He leaned against the fireplace and denied himself the release his body craved.

After he had calmed down considerably thanks to exhaustion and relentless pacing, he changed into nightclothes. His thoughts naturally shifted to Anora as they so often did. The letters still came written in her impeccable hand, but they were seldom. He was not invited to attend her second wedding. She reported that Warden Brosca had given her away to Alistair Theirin. Though it was never explicitly stated, Loghain knew he was not welcome in the palace. He tried not to think of his relationship with Anora now. Instead, he found solace in old memories. Anora, just a few months old; crying with colic as he rocked her gently to sleep. Anora, five years old with skinned knees and pigtails reenacting the Battle of River Dane. Anora, thirteen years old and arguing with him about her curfew. Anora, on her wedding day gripping his hand tightly to stop hers from shaking as he walked her down the aisle to become Queen of Ferelden.

He managed sleep somewhere in the small hours of the morning, but still awoke on time. Loghain had agreed to meet the Inquisitor to discuss what he knew of Adamant Fortress, which was next to nothing. His face itched with stubble as it had since his teenage years. He walked over to a small basin and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His dark circles went unnoticed. He looked critically at his gaunt cheeks and his grey hairs. He lathered his face and grabbed the razor to begin his morning ritual. As he moved it in a slow downward swipe, he remembered Morrigan had called him an old man. For the first time in almost four years, Loghain Mac Tir cut himself while shaving. He sucked air through his teeth and grabbed a towel to tend to the bleeding. 

“Damnable Witch,” he muttered to himself. He finished shaving and began dressing. He hurried off to his meeting with the Inquisitor and was thankful that it was kept short. Now, all that remained was to find a way to pass the time until he could see her again.


	3. Chapter 3

Morrigan could not keep her thoughts in the present. Instead, they were careening toward midnight when she would finally see him again. Over dinner, Kieran had asked her if she was alright. It had almost reduced her to tears. Few things pierced Morrigan the way thoughtfulness did. Though she was supposed to be the one taking care of Kieran, sometimes it felt like he was taking care of her. She had let him stay up much later than usual. He had fallen asleep about an hour ago. It was just before midnight when she pulled the blankets further around him and kissed him on the cheek. She stood up and checked her reflection one more time before heading into the night.

When she arrived at the room Loghain had designated, Morrigan froze. She felt the prickle of nerves in her stomach rise and catch in the back of her throat. Uncertainty was a most unwelcome feeling. With great determination, she closed her eyes and turned the door knob. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the room was barely furnished. There were no drapes upon the windows, there was a chest of drawers that had seen better days, and a bed whose linens appeared to have been changed recently. A cheerful fire was burning and it looked like someone had taken the time to clean. Noise from Herald's Rest wafted in to the room from outside. Tomorrow was a big day. A small retinue of soldiers was scheduled to accompany the Inquisitor on her way to Adamant Fortress. Tonight, they were busying themselves by drinking and being jovial; trying to forget that not all of them would make the trip back to Skyhold. Morrigan hardly noticed any of this. He was there. Waiting for her.

  
"Your words have proven true. Here I am," she said in a rehearsed and bemused tone.

  
"I would have it no other way."

His voice caused something inside of her chest to stir. She wanted to go to him, to feel the heat of his body upon hers, but moving was a thing she could not dare. He crossed the space between them and took her hand in his before raising it to his lips. Morrigan stifled her laugh.

"Perhaps you have forgotten, but I am no Lady."

"I have not, Witch, but you'll have to forgive an old man his courtly habits."

"You were not always part of the court."

Loghain emitted a low chuckle and squeezed her hand. His gesture emboldened her. She stood up on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips to his. A current of warmth passed through her body as Morrigan engaged in her first kiss. She did not close her eyes until Loghain closed his. He pulled her closer to him, enjoying the softness of her mouth. He had wanted to say more to her, but his body had hungered for her for years. Only a fool would stop to talk now.

Her hands ran under his tunic and through his chest hair. He tensed under her touch. It had been so long since a woman had laid hands upon him. Morrigan continued to explore his stomach and the pleasant trail of hair that continued past the waistband of his breeches. Her mouth had not left his. He tasted faintly of pipe tobacco and something sweet that she could not place. His tongue slid along hers, gentle and searching at first, and then hungry later. She nipped at his bottom lip. Morrigan took his face firmly in both of her hands. Despite the fact that he shaved earlier that morning, his cheeks were rough with stubble. She relished in the unfamiliar texture.

A sense of loss invaded her when he pulled away to discard his tunic. Loghain paused to look at her. He could not be sure in the dim light, but he thought that tears might have collected in the corner of her eyes. He placed his lips to hers quickly before easing her out of her blouse. He kept kissing her as deft fingers worked to rid her of her bra. Morrigan gasped when calloused fingertips glided across the undersides of her breasts. The cold air and his touch caused her skin to prickle and tighten. Loghain quickly finished undressing the two of them and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and looked down at him. A grin spread across her face when the tips of their noses touched. He held her there for a long while; trying desperately to commit that moment to memory.

The gentleness with which he laid her down upon the bed belied the urgency with which he wanted to to take her. He ran the very tips of his fingers down the length of her form from her shoulders to her hipbones. Morrigan watched him intently and forgot to exhale. He felt her tremble beneath him. He stood up and looked at her for a long while. He wanted physical distance between them for this. When he spoke his voice was uncharacteristically soft and it broke upon the second syllable of her name.

"Morrigan, I -"

"Don't," she commanded.

He said no more and remained standing. Morrigan looked up at him in bewilderment.

"I still want you," she pleaded.

He roughly pulled her toward the edge of the bed and parted her thighs firmly. Anger swelled inside of Loghain as he thrust his cock into her. There were so many things he had wanted to say and he could fathom why she would not hear them now. Thought abandoned him as Morrigan arched her hips into his. Strong fingers bit into her waist. With no regard to her wants or needs, he crashed into her repeatedly. Morrigan gripped the bed sheets and tried to regain leverage to match his rhythm, but it was futile. She was completely at his mercy. She wrapped her legs around his waist and writhed beneath him as he continued his relentless assault upon her body. Her breathing quickened and Morrigan felt everything so sharply, it was almost painful. She was his. He had claimed her over a decade ago and now he was claiming her again. Pleasure overtook her entire being and made her legs spasm. Morrigan had never known it could feel like this.

When she felt herself return to the world, Loghain was still driving himself into her without mercy. Sweat was streaming down his well-muscled chest and she could see the veins in his forearms bulge with each of his motions. She pulled at his arms, wanting to draw him closer to her, but he acted as if he did not notice her cues. She sat up and moved forward, careful to keep him inside of her. She kissed his open mouth. Morrigan wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close. She moved her lips close to his ear and whispered.

"Please, Loghain. Say my name again."

  
"Fucking Witch," he growled.

As his lips formed the words, Loghain's entire body tensed. He was grateful for the release that shortly followed. Morrigan clung to him as tightly as she could. His entire body shook and trembled. When he finished, it was as if he could hardly stand. Morrigan steadied him as best as she could and saw the trails that tears had left upon his cheeks. She guided him into bed, gently and laid his head upon her chest. Neither moved. Eventually, Loghain's breathing pattern became regular and sleep overtook him. Morrigan stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head. 

Morrigan was not sure how long she had watched Loghain sleep. The stars had just disappeared and the sky was a shade of early morning grey when she finally nudged him awake. He looked up at her with sleepy confusion, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His arms tightened around her. Morrigan knew that he would have to head to Adamant Fortress today and that there time together would be cut short.

There was so much to say. She wished that she had not silenced him when he had tried to speak last night, but she had been too vulnerable for his words then.

"I have a small thing I want to give you," she said while removing a ring from her thumb.

Loghain narrowed his eyes and he looked at her appraisingly. His obvious discomfort brought a small smile to her face.

"Flemeth gave this to me when I was but a girl. She had used it to keep the two of us connected. I have since altered the magic. It will link you and I together."

"What do you mean by link?"

"It will enable us to know one another's whereabouts. I-," She paused and looked straight ahead, "I do not wish for us to part company for so long this time."

"You know I am sworn to the Wardens."

"Yes."

"You know that I have to complete my duty before-," his voice was filled with uneasiness.

"Yes," she said forcefully cutting him off, "And you realize that the idea of remaining apart when we both so obviously benefit from being around one another is foolish."

Loghain was surprised at both her words and the certainty with which she said them. He swallowed hard and held both of her shoulders between his hands. His eyes never left hers as he spoke.

"After you left, I looked for you."

She tensed beneath his arms and averted his gaze.

"I asked around Denerim. I even traveled back to the Kocari Wilds."

He touched the underside of her chin with his forefinger and guided it upward, so she had to look at him.

"I am unsure of what will happen and can promise little. But I woud not go longer than I had to without seeing you again," he paused, "And I would like to know Kieran better."

  
Morrigan felt something sharp in flutter in her chest. She undid the leather cord she had kept tied around her wrist and threaded the ring onto it. As she tied it around Loghain's neck, he wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned into him and he held her against his chest.

"Thank you, Morrigan."

She wanted to tell him that she loved him now and for always, but the words caught in her throat.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was done for a kinkmeme prompt. I was working on something similar already, but this helped to give me focus. Many thanks to the prompt writer! I would love to hear any feedback you have, so feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> The Prompt is below:
> 
> If you import a world where Loghain did the Dark Ritual with Morrigan, and Loghain survives Adamant, then at the end right before he leaves for Weisshaupt, he tells the Inquisitor, "Give the witch my regards."
> 
> It's possible for Loghain and Morrigan to occupy Skyhold at the same time prior to this. I want to see their reunion scene. Ideally they are both reluctant at first to even see each other, but as soon as they do, a chemistry ignites that makes it difficult for them to stay away from each other. They start finding hidden places in Skyhold to indulge.  
> This was written to fill a kink meme prompt.
> 
> The relationship can be whatever you want it to be - friends with benefits, burgeoning love, angrysex, whatever you want. I am partial to Loghain being domineering and slightly aloof, but do whatever works for you.
> 
> Bonus:  
> \+ Sarcastic Morrigan  
> \+ Scarred Loghain  
> \+ flashbacks or reminiscences of the Dark Ritual


End file.
